


Three Moments for Every One

by maddie_amber



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Dr. Edwards, F/M, various original characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:05:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3348017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddie_amber/pseuds/maddie_amber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story takes place immediately after the events of Coda.  Like Slabtown, this is largely a Beth story, because the Beth in my head (the one who dictates everything I write) told me it had to be this way.  But stick with me – there will be Bethyl before it’s over.</p>
<p>It was like a nightmare she could not escape, she thought.  When Beth regained consciousness she found herself once again a patient at Grady Memorial Hospital.  The only thing Beth wanted was information about what had happened to Daryl and her family.  The longer she waited the harder it would be to find them.  Even the best tracker could not follow a trail almost four weeks cold.  Each passing day drove her to start her own search.  She did not know what had happened to her family, but if Noah was still with them she hoped that he would convince them to go to Richmond.  Day by day that thought became the beacon that led her.  She had to find her way to Richmond.  And each day as she grew stronger she became more obsessed with the idea.  Beth was ready to leave this place.  Regardless of the dangers they would encounter on the journey to Richmond, even the uncertainty of what she would find there was preferable to staying here one more moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to express my appreciation to Team Delusional. All their wonderfully thought out metas and theories helped solidify the plot of this story. Thank you. 
> 
> And a special thank you to expiredloverx who jumped on the chance to claim this story and provide art/graphics.

Edwards stood in the window watching the scene unfold below him. He was still shaken by the turn of events, shocked by the sudden death, not of Dawn, but of Beth, regretting that she did not live long enough for him to make amends for using her to his own ends. Granted, he did not use her like Gorman had planned on doing but his transgression had been almost as heinous because he had used her trust in him to do his own dirty work. In doing so he had lost her trust and eventually had lost her as well. Which saddened him deeply because he had seen a spark in her that had been sadly lacking from all the ‘survivors’ here at Grady but most notably from himself. He had been drawn to that spark, that little flame. He did not know why at first and was too foolish to recognize her special gift until he had completely and thoroughly alienated her. But now he understood. Beth had embodied hope. In this hopeless, miserable world she had dared to hope for better - to dream of life beyond the ugliness - to sing. And now all hope was gone. 

As he watched the strangers had emerged from the building onto the paved parking lot below. It had been less than fifteen minutes since the incident in the hallway, and yet it seemed an eternity. Beth’s “family” quite honestly terrified Edwards. They had the wild look of people who had lived on the edge for far too long making their own rules and defying order. For all the tenuous nature of the situation at Grady they did have order. For one insane second after the bullets stopped flying, Edwards was convinced Beth’s people would turn on all of them. It would have been a slaughterhouse if they had. No one would have left that corridor alive. To his surprise they had gathered up their dead and simply left looking as shell shocked as he had felt. He had watched their small party exit the hospital as another group arrived in a fire truck of all things. The one who had shot Dawn carrying Beth’s lifeless body down from the fifth floor. The only sound they made as they left had been the sound of muffled sobbing. 

Someone behind him cleared their throat as if to get his attention and Edwards turned. Standing in the doorway was Bennet, one of the officers from the confrontation in the hallway. 

“What do you want us to do with her?” Bennet asked. “Dump her down the elevator shaft with the rest?”

There was no need to name the ‘her’. Edwards knew he meant Dawn. Suddenly he was furious. He was pretty damn sure Bennet had fired the shot that killed Beth. 

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” Edwards demanded, uncharacteristic rage boiling up in him as he moved closer to the man in the doorway.

Bennet took a step backwards, startled by Edwards’ outburst. “What we all wanted,” he said

“What _we_ all wanted?”

“Yeah. Taking care of Dawn.” Suddenly the man did not sound so sure of himself

“Taking care of her. We agreed to take care of her. We did not agree to kill her. I never advocated killing her. It wasn’t necessary once Gorman and O’Donnell were out of the way. And you didn’t kill her. You shot Beth.”

“That was an accident,” Bennet said defensively. “I had a clear shot. I wouldn’t have missed if that girl hadn’t interfered.”

“But she did interfere and you did miss, you idiot. We were going to let Dawn loose in the city to fend for herself. Maybe that’s what we should do to you.”

Bennet blanched. “You wouldn’t.”

Edwards could see the man bristle defensively, his hand going to the butt of his gun. Taking a deep breath to calm his own nerves, Edwards backed off a pace or two. “Well, the damage is done. And we were damn lucky to come out of it with no fewer losses than we did. We had no way of knowing how Beth’s friends were going to react. They could have easily killed us all.”

“Not before we took out some of them.” Bennett continued to defend his position.

“And what would that have gained us?” Edwards was by no means a master of the withering glare but Bennet glanced away none the less. “We might have been stronger with them as allies.”

Before Bennet could answer there was a gunshot from the lot below. Edwards rushed back to the window only to see a swarm of undead piling up against the outside gate. Drawn by the commotion of the fire truck’s arrival moments before. “Holy, Jesus!” he cursed under his breath. Beth’s people were going to be overwhelmed in minutes. 

Turning back to Bennet he snapped an order in a voice he did not think he had. “There’s a swarm of rotters pushing through the fences. Get shooters to the roof NOW! While we still have a chance to stop them.”

Bennet stepped close enough to the window to glance out and assess the situation himself. 

“Go now!” snapped Edwards, “We’ve got to keep that area clear.”

Bennet raced from the room. 

As Edwards turned back to the window his stomach clenched into a cold hard knot of fear. They were dead. Beth’s people were all dead. Edwards watched in despair as the undead flowed into the lot below – an unstoppable tide, reaching, grabbing, tearing. _Good, God,_ he thought, _how had these people survived this kind of mayhem out there and what had it turned them into?_ Then he remembered Beth’s light, her strength. She was still there in the middle of the melee. The man that had claimed her and carried her to the ground floor, now knelt on the pavement, his face buried in her golden, blood stained hair, as though oblivious to the carnage that threatened around him, consumed with grief. Their leader, the bearded one named Grimes, was shouting words Edwards could not hear as his people formed around the fallen, backs to the center of a circle of death. Edwards began to understand why they had survived. Why Beth wanted so desperately to find them. They were a team. No, they were a family. They moved like one creature from the sword wielding woman with the wild dreadlocks to the red head who could only be a former soldier. They lashed out with knives and guns, dropping the rotters almost as fast as they pushed through the crumpling gate. 

Then Edwards heard the report of the first rifle from the rooftop and then another and more of the rotters began to collapse. Grimes was shaking the man holding Beth. Screaming something at him as he dragged him to his feet. They were within a few feet of one of the patrol cars and Edwards watched as Grimes dragged open the back door and helped place Beth’s body into the back seat, slamming the door when they were done. One of the rotters came around the corner of the car and had Grimes by the upper arm, gaping mouth ready to close on his living flesh but was dropped by the dark haired Asian man who had arrived with the second group. They began to inch towards the fire truck still parked near the gate, the man who had held Beth was now fighting like a man who no longer had anything to lose or to live for. The rifles from the hospital roof had made a sizeable dent in the crush of rotters near the gate and Grimes and his crew used the fallen corpses as stairs to climb to the top of the fire truck. The red headed soldier managed to get into the driver’s seat and after several attempts succeeded in starting the truck. The last man on board was the one who had carried Beth out into the sunshine. He had to be physically hauled onto the top of the truck and he fought those trying to save him. As the vehicle lumbered away Edwards had one last glimpse of the man with the crossbow, crumpled near the cab of the truck head hanging in utter dejection. The sound of the fire truck drew most of the remaining rotters who mindlessly follow it. 

Edwards continued to stare in numbed silence as the remaining undead were picked off by the gunmen on the roof until the last one had fallen and two officers braved the battle zone to clear and secure the gate. Only then did Edwards move away from the window. The mess would have to be cleaned. A fire would draw more rotters, but it was the only way to get rid of so many corpses. Someone would have to organize the effort. And then there was Beth’s body. Personally, he didn’t give a shit what happened to Dawn’s remains. But he was determined that no disrespect be shown to Beth’s. She’d have a proper funeral. And if she ended up on a pyre at least it would be done with dignity. 

***

Edwards moved cautiously through the bodies strewn across the pavement. Even though his brain told him they were dead, he half expected them to rise again. He hated being near any of them dead or truly dead. Watching them through the security grate on ground level was one thing, touching was another. And though he reminded himself they had all been human beings at one time, it was hard to envision. He had donned a surgical mask and gloves before stepping out onto the blacktop. It was near mid-afternoon and the sun pounded down on the black surface heating the air into shimmering waves. The carrion stench from bodies decaying before they were finally put down was overwhelming. No surgical mask could repel the nauseating odor adding to the utter chaos of the scene before him. He tried to ignore the corpses. He had only one goal. He motioned to Bennet and the younger man joined him. 

“Do you want me to add Dawn’s body to the pile,” he asked. 

“No,” Edwards replied. “A separate fire. One for her and one for Beth.”

“But I thought the others,” Bennet began

“Took Beth with them?” Edwards finished his question. “No, they were forced to leave her behind. She’s in that car there.” Edwards pointed to the cruiser that contained Beth’s body. 

Bennet’s nose wrinkled in poorly masked disgust. “That’s my car.”

“Well isn’t that appropriate,” Edwards replied sarcastically. “I guess you’re the man for the job then.”

Bennet took a deep breath before yanking open the rear door. One of Beth’s legs slid out of the car, the tip of her toe touching the ground like a ballerina poised to dance. Strangely graceful even in death. 

Edwards wiped the image from his mind and forced himself not to admonish Bennet to be careful. 

Sticking his head into the rear door of his vehicle, Bennet mumbled something under his breath that Edwards could not understand. He grunted as he tried to maneuver Beth’s body out of the back seat. Edwards watched the procedure, ready to help if the man asked but not willing to volunteer. _Let him struggle,_ he thought. 

“Holy fucking Christ,” Bennet suddenly shouted. Jumping back out of the car, he slammed his head against the door frame in the process. He turned to Edwards his eyes round and face pale. “She just took a breath.”

“Probably a reflex reaction as her body functions shut down.” Edwards answered, more amused than he admitted by Bennet’s reaction. 

“NO!” was Bennet’s adamant reply. “She’s fucking breathing,” he insisted, vigorously pointing his finger at his car. 

Edwards pushed the young officer aside, convinced he was over-reacting and wedged himself into the back seat of the car. As he did Beth gave a shuddering, half-choked gasp. _Oh, my god,_ Edwards thought. _Was it possible? Yes,_ the clinical part of his brain replied, he damn well knew it was possible. He never got the chance to examine Beth’s body after she was shot. To confirm her death. The bowman had let no one else touch her. Placing two fingers on Beth’s neck Edwards tried to find a pulse. He could not, but her skin was still warm and pliant, and not because of the sun beating down on the car. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his stethoscope. Yes, he thought. Very faint, but detectable. She had a á weak heartbeat. 

“Get a gurney now!” he bellowed to Bennet. “She’s alive! We need to get her inside!”

***

Beth always imagined death was like floating in a vast white expanse, pain free and light as a feather. Somewhere in the whiteness she would find Daddy and he would have Momma and Shawn with him. And they would not have to wait very long before they were joined by Maggie and Glenn and all the others she loved. So she knew she was not dead because she could not see or move or talk, and her head was filled with an agonizing pain pounding to the faint beat of her heart. Voices echoed through the blinding pain and the darkness. Rick and Carol, Noah and Tyreese, but mostly Daryl. She could hear the tears in his voice, feel the shuddering sobs ripping through him as he hugged her to his chest. And she wanted to tell him she could hear him and she was inside her head listening even though sounds came through wadded cotton muffled and indistinct. But she could not make the words come. She was trapped and the world had slowed. Time was distorted. Every second seemed like three. 

But against her ear, behind the ragged breathing she could hear his heart beating, strong, steady as loyal and dependable as only Daryl’s heart could be. And then she was floating. Floating in Daryl’s arms. She could sense the motion as she hung limp and helpless, cradled in his strength. She felt his footsteps hitting the linoleum floor of the hallway, then a jolt as he took each step, five floors of steps, out into the blazing sun she could not see but felt as fire on her skin. They were taking her home. She was going home with her family wherever that ended up being. Maybe Richmond with Noah. 

The motion stopped, but she could still feel his arms wrapped around her, hear his heart beating, and feel the rise and fall of his chest as he took each breath. Daryl was murmuring soft words, his voice vibrating through her even though she could not understand their meaning. 

Then a sound like thunder ripped through her. She could sense the change in those around her that spoke of danger and urgency. They was more shouting and explosive noises, but for her everything moved in slow motion. Someone was trying to take her out of Daryl’s arms and she could not fight them off, could not shout for help but she could hear the outrage in Daryl’s voice as he struggled to maintain his hold on her. And then Daryl’s warm arms were gone. She could no longer feel his breathing or hear his heartbeat and for the first time she was afraid. She was surrounded by the silent darkness and terror. And she was no longer going home. 

An eternity later, she felt a soft touch on the side of her neck. 

***

Edwards leaned against the side of the door watching Beth sleep. He had done all he could to stabilize her condition, now all he could do was wait and hope the damage to her brain was minimal. There had been very little bleeding, which was good because it meant no major blood vessels had been damaged by the track of the bullet. He also hoped that meant no hematomas would develop in her skull that would increase pressure on her brain. Without a CT scan he had no idea what parts of her brain would be affected by the bullet’s path. He could only surmise from the angle of the entry and exit wounds what structures might be involved. For the next two weeks brain swelling would be the critical issue. Even though the bullet had entered and exited cleanly with no apparent fragmentation, the pathway would still be a source of shock and minimizing swelling was critical. He was no neurosurgeon and the thought of having to remove a portion of her cranium to alleviate pressure on her brain terrified him. For now, he would keep her sedated and pray. 

“Can we really spare the resources?” 

Edwards bristled at the sound of the voice behind him. Turning he faced Bennet, and this time he had brought back-up in the form of Officers Licari and Sheppard. 

“How can you even ask?” Edwards’ voice dripped sarcasm. “She took out Gorman, helped Dawn eliminate O’Donnell, and was the direct cause of Dawn’s demise. We owe her whatever we gained from all of that. In return we put her it the position she is in now. Yes, we can spare the resources.” Edwards stared coldly at the three officers. “Not only can we spare them, we will go out and find more of them if we need to. What is the point of eliminating Dawn if we aren’t going to be any better than she was? Wasn’t that the whole purpose behind this? To make things better for everyone here, not just the officers.” 

Bennet and his cohorts glanced at each other. Each nodded as though confirming something they had already decided. 

“Let us know if there is anything you need, Doc?” Bennet finally said, in a voice that was respectful, and perhaps a bit contrite. “We’re having a meeting in the dining hall. Organizational. We think you should be there. Maybe one of the wards could sit with her. Just in case there’s an emergency.”

Edwards sighed. Suddenly regretting his sharp words. He was determined to be better than Dawn not become her replica. “Please find Percy. He will be glad to sit with Beth.”

***

Beth felt as though she had been gone for ages. She did not know where she had been, only that she had been gone. She still felt leaden, her arms and legs so weak she could barely wiggle her fingers and toes, much less lift her extremities. But she was no longer floating, in Daryl’s arms or in her mind. She was very aware of the firmness of a mattress beneath her back. 

They must have gotten to Richmond, or found shelter somewhere with real beds. She wanted to stretch the stiffness out of her muscles, but no matter how hard she tried her body would not cooperate, so she remained still, listening the buzz of sound around her. In time the buzz differentiated into snatches of voices and a persistent bleeping noise. None of the voices were saying words she could understand. She wanted to talk to them, to talk to Daryl and the others, to tell them how much she had missed them. It had been so long 

Slowly the muddle of sound became more distinct. The rhythmic, mechanical bleeping a background to the words. 

“…gradually. We need to assess how much damage the bullet inflicted.”

Bleep, bleep, bleep…

“..startle her. We have no idea how she will react. If she’s even capable of responding. But we need to keep her as calm as possible.”

Bleep, bleep, bleep…

‘…sedative. I’ve prepared one.”

Bleep, bleep, bleep…

“Only if she gets over agitated.”

She could feel her left fingers and toes now, though there was a strange numbness in her right side. Beth continued to rise slowly to the surface of the darkness, like a deep sea diver that had spent time in the oceans depths, she felt herself moving upward in cautious baby steps. The darkness giving way to light. And as it did she suddenly realized the undercurrent of sound she had been hearing was the steady sound of a heart monitor. She was in a hospital. In Richmond? Why?

“She’s coming around.”

“Okay, let me handle this from here.”

The voices were so familiar and Beth struggled to put faces with the sounds. 

“Beth?” The voice was tentative. 

Where ever she was they knew her name. Daryl or Rick or Carol must have told them. Beth pushed harder against the last remaining fog in her brain, trying to break through. 

“I don’t know if you can hear me. I want you to try to remain as calm as possible. We need to evaluate your condition. I’m going to ask some questions. First, if you can, open your eyes.”

Beth wanted to respond, but as hard as she thought about opening her eyes, her eyelids refused to respond. 

“Just take your time.” Said the voice. “When you’re ready. And don’t be frightened. We’ve kept the room dark. So you can adjust.”

Beth made one last herculean effort to open her eyes and felt them flutter, imagined the feel of her lashes against her cheeks, then finally felt her eyelids open the barest slit. To see nothing. She felt herself take a short startled gasp. 

“Remember, Beth, the room is dark. You’re not going to see anything just yet.”

But Beth did not need to see. She remembered - the voice, the smell, the sound of the monitors. She was still in Grady. She had never left. Her eyes popped open and she saw the recognizable profile of Dr. Edwards against the bright glow of the monitors behind him. She opened her mouth, wanting to voice her dismay, and her anger about still being here but all that came from her mouth was a garble of nonsense syllables. Struggling to sit up, she felt hands on her shoulders coaxing her back onto the bed and she fought against them. No one was going to keep her in this place. Not now. Not after she’d found her family. Not after she’d found Daryl. 

“The sedative,” Edwards said sharply. “Before she hurts herself.”

_NO!_ Beth screamed, but the sound was only in her mind.

***

“That went well,” Bennet said sarcastically. 

Edwards shot him an angry look. 

“Now what?” Bennet continued, more contritely. 

“We try again tomorrow.”

“She’ll react the same.”

_I hope she does,_ Edwards thought, _because that means she’s still fighting and has a chance._ He shook his head. “The sedative we just gave her was much lighter than what she’s been under for the last two weeks. She should be much more aware as she wakes up.”

“Well,” Bennet said again, “it might be wise to make sure she doesn’t get her hands on any sharp objects until she understands we mean her no harm. I got a funny feeling you might be her first target.”

***

It was like a nightmare she could not escape, Beth thought as she stood at the window looking out on the city. It was not the same room she had awakened in when she had first been brought to Grady Memorial Hospital weeks ago, but the view was the same. She had been conscious for about ten days. Long enough for Edwards to explain what had happened to her, and why she was still here. Still here, while her family was lost to her again. She was slowly recovering her strength but was plagued by persistent numbness in her right arm and leg. Both limbs worked, but felt as though they were completely asleep, which threw off her gait and her ability to manipulate anything with her right hand. Edwards assured her the condition would improve as long as she continued to exercise both limbs. Whether she trusted Edwards enough to believe was another story. She could only hope and mark each small improvement as another step towards the day she would leave this place permanently. Each day she would walk the corridors of the hospital that were open to them. First with a walker - and she had laughed at the pun once she got accustomed to using one. More recently she had moved to a cane. Often the former wards walked with her to make sure she did not fall. 

Her ability to walk was steadily improving. Edwards assured her the cast would be removed from her wrist in a few days and she could begin to exercise her hand. What was more unsettling though was her inability to form coherent words, to express herself or to ask for the most basic questions. She understood everything that was said to her and her memory remained intact, as she recalled past events with startling clarity. But she could not find the correct words regardless of how hard she tried. She could speak, but what came out of her mouth was nonsense. Yesterday the only word she could annunciate was ‘chicken’. Edwards called the condition Broca’s Aphasia. She did not care what it was called she only wanted to know if it could be treated. 

She did not know what to think of Edwards. She was still angry and disappointed by how he had used her to kill an innocent man because he was too much the coward to do it himself. And yet he seemed truly contrite about that and about the fact that she had been accidentally shot. He steadfastly refused to tell her who fired the bullet that entered her head, and in reality, she did not need a name. It had happened. She believed it was an accident. She had no intention of conducting a vendetta against the culprit. Besides, she was partially to blame herself thinking she could somehow inflict an injury on Dawn. And Edwards had saved her life. They had used precious resources to keep her alive while she healed and were continuing to make every effort to aid in her recovery. 

Edwards attempted to convince her that everyone at Grady had agreed to alter the course set by Dawn. There seemed to be some movement in that direction. At least Percy seemed much happier and less intimidated. Dear, sweet Percy had taken it upon himself to act as her caregiver, walking with her as she learned to navigate on two feet again, bringing her the best tidbits of food to encourage her to eat, reading to her as much to amuse himself as to entertain her. The old man seemed to have a fondness for her and she returned the affection. In some ways it helped to ease the pain of losing her father. She was very grateful for his solicitude. 

But no one, not even Percy, could completely dispel the sense of gloom that had overtaken her. She had not lost hope, but to come so close to being reunited with Daryl and her family, only to be robbed of their company, had been a devastating blow. To awaken from a drug induced sleep to find herself back where she had started after so tantalizing a contact with the people she loved was difficult to bear. Each day, standing at this window, she watched the patrol cars drive out of the gates as the officers continued to make supply runs into the city. It was dangerous business, no one argued that point. But they no longer brought back hapless victims to become ‘wards’ to service their needs. The only thing Beth wanted from the officers was information about what had happened to Daryl and her family. As each car left and returned with no word of her friends, she grew more desperate to leave this place. The longer she waited the harder it would be to find them. Even the best tracker could not follow a trail almost four weeks cold. Each passing day drove her to start her own search. She did not know what had happened to her family, but if Noah was still with them she hoped that he would convince them to go to Richmond. Day by day that thought became the beacon that led her. She had to find her way to Richmond. And each day as she grew stronger she became more obsessed with the idea. 

***

Edwards stepped back and eyed the painting critically to make sure it was hanging straight, stepped forward and nudged the bottom left corner just a bit, then stood back again. 

“Yep,” he said to himself. “That will do.” When he first took possession of the Caravaggio master work he thought he it represented a life that could never possibly exist again. The world of art, and the music he had listened too where just reminders of all he, no, all that humanity had lost. He had been convinced all of the classical endeavors were fossils of the past in this reality. But then Beth had said to him ‘I still sing’ and since her literal return from the dead he had begun to re-think his attitude towards the arts. Maybe, just maybe, there would come a time when men could once again indulge. And to that end, he felt the need to preserve what they still had, to pay homage to past genius and provide a more appropriate display for the painting. 

The sound of soft applause startled him and he turned to see Beth in the doorway, a smile of approval on her face, and for some crazy reason, that approval meant more to him than he could possibly have imagined. She was standing, he noted secondarily, without the aid of her cane. In fact, she had not brought the cane with her. Remarkable, he thought. She had made remarkable progress. A conceited man would have taken credit for her survival and rapid recovery, but he knew his skill as a doctor had little to do with the speed with which she progressed. That was all Beth and her determination to heal. He had helped to keep her alive, but the rest she had done through sheer will power. 

Edwards noted that she surveyed his once cluttered and dingy office with an observant eye. He had made a point of straightening out the mess, opening the windows and letting in the sun. There was no longer a need to hide in a cave piled haphazardly from one end to the other with objects of little use except to aggravate Dawn with their presence. He was not naturally a sloppy person. That charade had been his one small act of defiance in a situation over which he felt he had no control. It was good, he admitted, to feel like he actually had some control over his life and his fate again. 

“Is there something I can do for you?” he asked at last. He doubted Beth had come simply to pay him a social call. 

Beth nodded and walked carefully into the center of his office, glanced around as though looking for something specific, then nodded. She went to his file cabinet and took down the rolled map he had placed on top of the set of drawers. Apparently, she had noticed the map on one of her earlier visits. Since his world had been reduced to the halls and rooms of the hospital, he had almost forgotten it existed. But there was a world outside these walls. A terrifying world to him, and yet one in which Beth and her companions had survived since the beginning of this debacle. 

Setting the map on the now clean surface of his desk, Beth carefully unrolled it, placing weights on all four corners to keep it flat. She studied it for only a moment to orient herself then pointed at a location. Edwards moved closer. 

“Richmond?” he asked, uncertain of what she was thinking. Although her motor abilities had vastly improved, her speech unfortunately had not. Without a skilled speech therapist, Edwards was not sure it would ever improve. “Do you need to know something about Richmond?” He needed to be careful he did not add to her obvious frustration at being unable to communicate. 

“Turtle,” she said, then closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Turtle.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. 

He waited patiently. They would figure this out eventually. 

“Okay, I’m not sure what turtle means,” he said at last. 

“Fam.” Beth took a deep breath. “Famine.”

“Famine?” Edwards knew he could not take anything she said literally. The random words her brain generated were usually not what she actually meant. 

“Famy,” Beth said. 

“Famine. Famy. Family?” Edwards said at last. 

Beth nodded furiously. 

“Family,” Edwards felt relieved that he had guessed so quickly. “You have family in Richmond?”

No, Beth shook her head. Pointing to her chest she said “Famy”, then rested her finger on Atlanta, tracing the highway north to Richmond. 

Edwards thought for a moment. “Your family. The people who came here for you. You think they went from Atlanta to Richmond?

Beth smiled broadly, and nodded vigorously. 

“But how would you know that?” Edwards blurted without thinking. 

Beth frowned at him as though he were a complete idiot. 

_I probably am,_ he thought. 

“Ark,” she said bluntly. 

“Ark?” _I am an idiot,_ he thought. _Ark? What the hell could ark mean?_

“Ark,” Beth repeated emphatically. 

“Of course,” Edwards said excitedly, “Noah.”

Again Beth smiled broadly. 

“Noah was from Richmond. And you think he would lead your family back there.”

Edwards thought Beth was going to hug him she was so excited. She pointed at him, then herself, then retraced the route on the map from Atlanta to Richmond. Edwards eyed her skeptically. “You want me to take you to Richmond.”

Yes, she nodded firmly. 

“I don’t know if that can be done.” He was startled by the sharp sting of her hand as she slapped him across the face. She was glaring at him, then repeated pointing to him, herself and the map. It was not a question. She expected him to get her to Richmond. “Okay, I’ll take it to the next council meeting. This is going to have to be coordinated if it’s going to work.”

Beth nodded once before turning and walking out of his office, head held high and her back straight, only the slightest limp to betray the lingering paralysis in her right side. 

“Okay,” he said again after she had left. “Jesus, how am I going to swing this?”


	2. Journey

Beth gathered the last of her few belongings, stuffing them into the tattered back pack one of the officers had given to her. They had managed to find serviceable jeans, socks, a jacket and a new shirt to replace her tattered old clothing. She had kept her boots and at her waist she wore a belt with two sheathed knives. She had been offered a pistol, which she took reluctantly knowing stealth was often the key to surviving a walker attack outside the walls of the prison, but she also knew never to say no to a serviceable weapon. One of the former wards had given her a small notebook and pencil when she learned that Beth had once kept a journal, and another had presented her with a handful of carefully horded power bars. They were thoughtful gifts and she appreciated the sacrifices made to present them. But she was ready to leave this place. Regardless of the dangers they would encounter on the journey to Richmond, even the uncertainty of what she would find there was preferable to staying here one more moment. 

Slinging the backpack over her shoulders she glanced around the room one more time and turned to find Percy standing in her doorway. Of all the people here at Grady, Percy was the only one she would miss. When he learned of her intention to travel to Richmond he had asked to accompany her, but she had declined emphatically. As much as she loved the old man and would have wanted his company, the journey would be extremely dangerous and he had never had to face post-apocalyptic life outside of the protection of the hospital walls. She faced him now, tears in her eyes at the distraught look on his face. Opening her arms she hugged him, burying her face in his shoulder for a moment. When she pulled away they were both sniffing away tears. He held out a small bag to her. 

“For the road,” he said. “To remember me.”

I’ll always remember you, Beth thought, but she accepted the small brown bag and peaking inside saw half a dozen ripe red strawberries. She could not help but smile, which made Percy smile too. 

“Safe journey,” he said. “As safe as it can be. You’re gonna be okay in Richmond. You’re a survivor. Tell that Noah we all said hello. And tell him things are better now.”

I will, Beth thought, giving Percy one last quick hug before walking down the hall and out into the sunshine where Licari, Sheppard and Edwards were waiting beside the fastest patrol car they owned. She knew the vehicle was loaded to maximum capacity with gasoline, oil, water, ammunition and enough food for a four day journey. Under normal circumstances the 500 plus mile journey from Atlanta to Richmond would have taken about eight hours. Assuming they were able to stay on Route 85 for most of the journey, Beth hoped they could make the drive in less than a day. She doubted they would be able to travel that far without a detour, but still was hoping for the best. Grady’s officers had ventured beyond the limits of Atlanta on many occasions and could at least avoid any problems within the area they had explored. What lay beyond they could only guess though Beth had a far better idea of what to expect than they. She knew what life beyond the walls was like. 

The two officers had volunteered to be her escorts and although she did not completely trust any of the officers at Grady, they had been deferential and polite since she had awoken. Edwards had assured her that they were well aware of her role in eliminating Dawn and respected her for that. Which made sense, but she did not fully trust Edwards either despite his contrite attitude. 

As she approached the patrol car she tried to project a no-nonsense air. This was her mission. They were her officers. Even if she could not speak she could still command in other ways. They were not her babysitters. They were her escorts and she expected to be respected. 

She nodded, first to the two officers, then to Edwards. Then waited for a response. 

Edwards spoke first. “We are as ready as we can be. You do know, Beth, that there is no guarantee we can get you to Richmond.”

Beth showed her disapproval by glaring at Edwards and was not disappointed when he looked startled, then cleared his throat and looked away in order to re-gain his composure. 

“What I mean is that you are welcome to stay here. Or, if you get to Richmond and decide it’s not what you hoped it would be, you can come back here. There is a place for you here now. And, the same goes if,” Edwards hesitated, “if the community Noah remembered is no longer there. We won’t strand you there if you can’t or decide not to stay.” 

Beth waited for a moment as though considering Edwards’ words, the she walked around him and opened the rear door of the squad car. Placing her bag into the back seat, she noticed a small box containing the items she’s requested from the kitchen – twine, empty tin cans. Also two rolled blankets a tarp, a small mirror, a lens and a short handled shovel. Standing up she looked toward the windows of the hospital. There in a third floor window stood Percy. She smiled and nodded. Percy would do fine too. Then she got into the vehicle and waited for Licari and Sheppard. 

When they finally pulled away from the hospital, Beth looked through the rear window around the white cross that filled half the glass and waved. She saw Edwards wave back and almost laughed. She was not waving at the doctor. She had promised to wave to Percy. 

***

Fifty-two miles outside of Atlanta they passed a battered fire truck abandoned in the median. Beth saw the look the two officers exchanged, but she could not ask the significance. They did not slow down or stop, but increased their speed. 

They smelled the refugee camp miles before they saw it. A fetid, cloying stench that reeked of rotting meat hung in the air like a shroud, was sucked into the vehicles vents and settled like a heavy fog. They had reached mile eighty seven. Topping the hill the camp stretched out in from of them – an endless sea of undead. They briefly discussed the option of attempting to run the gauntlet and quickly decided that way would be suicide. It was the first detour. They backtracked twenty miles until they came to a road that would loop around the camp and from which they could find a route that would return them to the highway. That also ended the dream of a one day trip. 

Beth could tell the two officers were uneasy about sleeping outside the hospital’s walls in the reluctance with which they helped her make camp, set a perimeter warning wire and build a small, underground fire. As soon as it began to get dark they retreated to the inside of their vehicle. Beth stretched out on a blanket next to the remnants of the fire with her back to the patrol car. Before the world changed she never thought she would be prefer sleeping under the stars, but the smell of the campfire smoke mingled with the damp mustiness of the soil beneath her and the soft crackle of leaves under her blanket made the hygienic cleanliness of the hospital that much more confining. Lying on the ground, listening to the soft voices of crickets and occasional hoot of an owl felt so much more like home – like freedom. The only thing that would have made the evening better, no, would have made it perfect would have been Daryl’s presence. For the first time in many week she let her unguarded thoughts drift back to the weeks they had shared together on the road, and she fell asleep missing him, but with a smile on her lips. She would soon be with him again. They had a conversation to finish. The direction of which she had spent many nights considering. 

***

Around two hundred miles they encountered the first herd and were forced to detour again. The second night of their journey was spent locked in a rickety barn listening to the seemingly endless groaning and shuffling of the herd that surrounded them. Earlier in the day they had returned to the main highway and had been making good time as they raced along a rare, uncluttered stretch of open roadway. Rounding a tree-lined curve in the road they had almost driven into the walkers. Quick thinking and good driving by Sheppard saved them. She had been able to turn the vehicle around, cut across the berm and retreat, but the herd was so vast it seemed to cut them off at every turn. As worried as Beth was about their own survival, she was terrified for her family. How could they survive a group this large? She could only hope they passed this location before the walkers had coalesced into a literal army. 

The mindless dead seemed unaware of their presence as they shambled around the barn, bumping into its outside walls and themselves, shuffling and groaning through the night. And the stench was almost overwhelming. Climbing into the hay loft after barring the barn door, they had all taken turns trying unsuccessfully to sleep. Beth had chosen to sleep in the hay mow, because it brought back memories of earlier more innocent times when her dad and mom and siblings were still alive. 

Sunrise came and still the endless herd continued to shift and moan outside their shelter. It was almost noon before they risked opening the barn doors. The area seemed empty except for two or three walkers that had become ensnared in the barbed wire fence surrounding the pasture. Beth quickly and silently finished them with her knife. She was cautious, but not frightened and when she returned to the barn she noted a change in the demeanor of both the officers. Until now they had behaved as though they were her babysitters and she were a necessary burden, but after the barn, they began to treat her as a respected equal. And that made Beth Greene smile. 

***

They passed the half way point on day three. At 421 miles they were forced to take yet another detour to avoid a major traffic snarl on the interstate. As they wove through one small town after another they saw no human life, and very few walkers. The eerie silence was almost nerve wracking as they stopped to check parked vehicles for gas that could be siphoned. Beth almost wished they were back in the rural areas outside of Atlanta. But the increasing numbers of small and large towns meant they were getting closer to a larger metropolitan area, Sheppard assured her. 

***

Five days after leaving Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta, Georgia, Beth stood in front of the shattered gates of a walled community on the south western side of Richmond, Virginia and for the first time since departing Grady she doubted she would ever find her family. Hanging from one rusty hinge was a sign proudly proclaiming this place to be Shirewilt Estates. The walls Noah had thought so impregnable were battered bricks crumbling into gaps wide enough to drive their car through. Many of the houses beyond the boundary looked as though they had been burned or bombed out. As she stood, fists clenched to her sides, she could see walkers on the other side of what remained of the wall. Beth had come all this way only to find another tragedy. Fighting the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks she silently chanted I don’t cry anymore. I don’t cry. But she did mourn. For the loss of those who had once thought themselves safe here, and for her own loss. 

“Something ugly went down here,” Sheppard said softly. Beth had heard the older woman approach from behind her as she had stared at the travesty of sanctuary in front of her eyes. “Not recently. But it’s probably not smart to stay around here. In case whoever attacked this place is still in the area.”

Beth listened, but her heart was heavy and she could not respond. 

“Look, maybe this is the wrong place,” Sheppard continued. “I’m sure there are other gated communities around here. Richmond folk seemed fond of these little enclaves.”

Beth stared at the wall struggling to hold onto the dream that had driven her here, the dream that had pushed her to recover from her wounds. 

“For what it’s worth, Licari and I have decided we’d like to see what lies beyond Richmond.” Sheppard continued to speak in a subdued tone. “Recon you know. Might find something we can use back at Grady. Maybe an ally.”

Or an enemy Beth thought with uncharacteristic sarcasm. 

“Always best to know what might come your way, good or bad. Anyway, we aren’t that far from D.C. A hundred miles at most. If there was a place in this country that could create a stronghold, I’m betting that’s the place. I’m betting your family was thinking the same thing. I don’t think we’ll find them here. But maybe in Washington.”

Beth turned to look at Sheppard. She nodded, then looking once more at the wreckage of Shirewilt Estates, she walked back to the patrol car and crawled into the back seat fighting her own feelings of defeat. What Sheppard said made sense. She only hoped her family would think the same way. 

***

Beth had been so focused on reaching Richmond for so long that she had not considered the consequences had the settlement not been there. Or if they refused to allow them to enter. The subdivision had probably been designed as a gated community of homes intended for those of moderate income, none of which mattered now. Washington was another hundred miles beyond Richmond. Three to four hours journey if they met no more obstacles. The officers had gotten very good at avoiding walkers. If they remained as lucky avoiding humans they might be successful by end of day. 

Just this one time, luck seemed to be in their favor. By end of day they had seen their destination as they topped a rise outside of D.C. Within an hour they stood outside another wall, this one seemingly intact, re-enforced and extended upward into an impressive barricade of timber. Beth could make out openings in the top levels intended, she was certain, for snipers. She was equally certain one or more rifles were currently trained on her and her companions. If they were vigilant guardians the inhabitants had probably been aware of their approach since they topped the rise. Drawing up to the first gate they found, they parked their vehicle then all three stood outside the squad car, hands empty and raised to shoulder height. Beth’s mind raced. There was really no way to know if they were approaching sanctuary or another prison. She wished she were capable of pleading her own case, but she had to rely on Sheppard and Licari to do that for her. Five days ago she would have doubted their sincerity, and would not have trusted the veracity of their arguments in her favor, but after five harrowing days on the road, they had come to an understanding. They might never be friends, but they did respect one another and each other’s abilities. 

Sheppard had stepped forward to speak. The officers having decided that perhaps a woman’s voice would seem less threatening. She had requested a meeting with whomever was in charge and now they waited. After several interminable minutes the gates opened and three armed men stepped out, followed by a man and a woman who carried holstered weapons but where empty handed. 

“Who are you?” the unarmed man asked bluntly, “And what do you want?”

“We’ve come here looking for friends of Beth Greene,” Sheppard said, indicating Beth as she spoke. 

“And why doesn’t Beth Greene speak for herself?” the woman asked somewhat sarcastically. 

“She was accidentally shot in the head and has lost her ability to speak. She does, however understand everything we are saying.”

“Shot in the head.” The man was less sarcastic than his partner. “Pretty miraculous. Surviving a head shot these days.”

Beth nodded toward the pair. 

“So what are the names of these friends she’s seeking?”

“Their leader was named Rick Grimes,” Sheppard continued. “Another was named Noah. Also Carol. And others.”

“And what did this Rick Grimes look like?” the woman asked. 

Sheppard gave a rather detailed description of Rick. “But we really don’t know what all of the others looked like. Only Beth knew them.”

The man and woman put their heads together and whispered. Then the man spoke again. “No one named Rick Grimes here.”

Beth felt her heart sink. She had such high hopes. 

“They’re coming from where?” asked the woman.

“Atlanta. On foot we believe.”

“That’s a long walk.” The man looked at the woman again. “You three look capable. We can always use capable people. You are welcome to stay, provisionally of course. ”

Beth sighed. She was heartbroken that her family was not here, but she was not without hope that they might still arrive. It was a long and harrowing journey walk they could not acquire vehicles, and she knew quite well the dangers and detours they would encounter. She also knew the strength and resilience of her people. Nodding agreement to her companions and to the man and woman, she sighed as the gates swung open allowing them to enter. 

***

In the end, Licari and Sheppard opted to return to Grady. They had exchanged sufficient information with the governing body of the community to be able to return to Atlanta with an offer to merge resources if the hospital chose to do so.

“What good is recon if you don’t take the intel back,” Licari reasoned. 

Beth had to admit she was almost sad to see them go. Every time she found some small measure of stability it was taken away. She could not hide her disappointment at not finding her family here, but she did not let it rule her either. This place was secure, and it offered a normalcy she had not known since the prison. After an extensive, well organized orientation program Beth was assigned a room and scheduled into the work rotation in which all members of the community participated. It was not hard labor but it was strenuous enough to be tiring, and she found herself grateful for the physical work that left her worn enough to almost fall asleep without thinking of her missing family. Without thinking about Daryl. Almost.


	3. Starting Over

Beth had just emerged from the basement, arms wrapped around a basket laden with sodden clothing ready to be hung. It had been her turn to assist with laundry and she had not shirked despite still being hampered by slight paralysis in her right arm and leg. Laundry, she discovered, required no conversation on her part, but she could still enjoy the banter that surrounded her. She never thought she would take comfort in so mundane a routine but, she had also never thought so mundane a routine would ever again exist. And it reminded her so much of their brief life at the prison, when she still hoped that there could be some semblance of normalcy in this horrific world. She remembered how Carol would marshal her “troops” once a week, gathering, scrubbing, hanging, folding clothing for the all the prison’s inhabitants. The thought of Carol brought a momentary pang. Carol had been so badly injured. She wondered if her friend had survived. She wondered if any of them survived. 

She quickly turned her thoughts away. She knew that only sorrow would be found at the end of that road. She had to continue to have hope that one day her family would arrive here safely as she had done. Surely Noah would deliver them here if at all possible. 

“Doing okay, Beth?” asked a gentle voice at her side. “You seemed a bit lost there for a moment.”

Beth glanced up, realizing she had been frowning at her basket. It was Anne. The closest she had to a friend in this new place. Anne had taken Beth under her wing from the start. She was a nurse and had served in the Army before. She had experience with head wounds and had taken it upon herself to work with Beth hoping to help her recover her ability to speak and to reduce the remnants of paralysis that still affected her right side. Anne had begun singing to her, hoping the melodic repetition of music would be the key to healing the damaged part of Beth’s brain that prevented her from speaking coherent words. 

“Gumby,” Beth said, then winced. Anyone else would have laughed at the totally inappropriate comment, but Anne knew that the words Beth used were often the only ones her brain would produce, appropriate or not. 

“Pretty Gumby myself,” Anne said with a gentle laugh. 

And Beth knew she was not being laughed at, but with, in the most empathic way. 

“Gumby,” Beth said again, smiling. It was as good a word as any she supposed. 

“I have the boys looking for new sheet music,” Anne said in her light breezy tone. “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting a little bit tired of church music. Hymns are fine and all, but I could use something a bit, I don’t know.”

Beth nodded and laughed. She loved the old church music, because it reminded her of the past she was slowly forgetting, when Daddy and Momma took them all to church on Sunday and they would sing. She knew Anne hoped the music would help her find the words she struggled to find on her own. Music therapy she called it. But something a bit less churchy would be fun. 

Just as they stepped out into the bright sun of the courtyard, she heard the stomping of half a dozen sets of feet coming from one of the side streets. A small group of militia dog-trotted into view obviously on a mission. 

“Hey,” Anne called to one of the young women in the lead. Beth recognized the woman but could not recall her name. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Got a situation over near gate three. You might want to keep your charge away. It could be dangerous.”

“What kind of situation?”

“Outsiders. Pushed their way through the gate. They’re pretty wild. Been livin’ without walls for a long time.”

“Did Aaron bring them?”

“No. I don’t’ know if Aaron will even let them stay. They came in on their own, but they seemed to know a lot about us. Look, I gotta go. They want snipers on the walls just to be safe.” 

“Thanks.” Anne called after her as she trotted away after the rest of her crew. Then she turned to Beth, “Nothing to worry about. Happens once in a while. Some outside group gets wind of what we have. Sometimes they prove trustworthy and are allowed to stay. Sometimes, they’ve just been wild for too long.”

Beth had frozen in her tracks, and even though Anne nudged her she held firm. She held up three fingers towards Anne, cursing the words she could not find. She pointed to herself, then grabbed Anne by the arm and started to pull her in the same direction as the sharpshooters. She held up three fingers again. Anne pulled back.

“No, Beth, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

But Beth would not hear of it. She set the laundry basket down with a loud thunk in the middle of the courtyard. She was sure the look she gave her friend would have scorched the earth. She had to see who the strangers where. 

“Look, Beth, I know you keep hoping your family is going to show up, but,” Anne paused as though carefully choosing her words. “I think it’s pretty unrealistic to think that this might be them. It’s been months since you saw them at Grady. People don’t survive outside for that long.”

With those words Beth knew she was glaring. She pointed at herself firmly, then pointed to the outside. She had survived. Everyone from the farm had survived. For eight long months, through the winter, after her family’s home had been overrun. They had learned to survive. No one in this privileged place seemed able to comprehend that. Anne had reached out to gently take her arm, but Beth shook her off. She would see for herself who this new group was. Turning her back on her friend she stated in the direction the militia had gone. 

“Okay, Beth, wait,” Anne called out after her. “At least let’s do this the smart way. You don’t need to get hurt again if there’s any real trouble. Come with me, we’ll go in the back way.”

Beth hesitated.

“Honest, Beth, I’m not trying to fool you. I just don’t want you hurt. I know the safest way to get a view of the gate without being seen ourselves. Come on.” 

Anne lengthened her stride and Beth did the best she could to keep up despite the still nagging paralysis in her right leg. She had to know. 

True to her word Anne knew the city and its back streets and soon they were standing on the edge of the broad, open plaza just inside gate three. It had been a park or something before the change, and there was still an expanse of trees and undergrowth both inside and outside the wall at this entrance. Beth had wanted to explore this part of the city, but had not yet gotten the opportunity. Anne held her back when they reached a point where there was a partial view of what was going on. She craned her neck to see over her taller companion’s shoulder. Overhead, on the wall’s parapet, she counted at least three rifles trained on the people below. She heard voices, talking heatedly though she could not understand the words that were spoken. She imagined someone just beyond her range of sight, was pleading their case, as the officers that had brought her to Richmond had pleaded for her. Laying out exactly why they should be trusted, and be allowed to stay behind these walls in this fragile bit of sanctuary. Beth wanted to get closer to see. One voice, muted by the building between her and it, was naggingly familiar, but the other voices were completely strange to her. Then she heard a shout and sensed the danger behind it followed by total silence. There was a subtle shift in the sharpshooters above her. They were picking their targets. 

No longer caring whether she remained safe or not, Beth ducked under Anne’s arm, determined to reach a vantage point where she could see. 

“Beth,” Anne hissed in a barely vocal whisper. 

Beth felt fingers rake against her arm but she twisted away from them and was gone before they could reach her again. 

***

Daryl’s aim was unflinching. He knew with deadly certainty he would take one of their leaders with him should anyone fire on his people. There were, in this moment, at least half a dozen rifles pointed at his head, he had counted three snipers on the outer wall alone as they came in. It was like Terminus all over again except this time he didn’t give a fuck how it ended for himself. He hadn’t cared since that fucking hospital in Atlanta. He had stayed alive this long because he owed Rick. He wanted Judith and Carl and the rest to know the safety and security of walls. Once they were safe he didn’t care what happened to himself and if the only way to end this standoff was a blood bath he would give as good as he got. But his family was not going to be denied the chance for survival beyond the simple act of staying alive. They were going to have the chance to live. 

Silence had descended on the group in the plaza. A lack of sound that spoke of death or rebirth, ends and beginnings. Tension rippled through everyone around him, he could see it in the taught muscles and unwavering weapons, could feel it like a static charge that arced from body to body. A silence so deep his eardrums ached with the need to feel something, anything. And as if in answer to his desire he heard shuffling behind him, then a muffled grunt as though someone were struggling. But he refused to take the bait, holding his target, his back to the new disruption. Then he caught the slightest motion to his left. It was Maggie, turned so she could see what was behind his back. He did not risk a glance in her direction, refusing to be sucked in to whatever ploy these people were using to distract them. He was almost able to ignore the half choked mewling sound that seemed to come from Maggie. He couldn’t tell if the noise was meant to be anger, fear, joy or all of those wrapped into one and he was not going to look at her. But even without looking he could feel the raw emotion pulse from her as she dropped to her knees in the dust, Glenn, as he always was, at her side. He heard footsteps behind him, light, running with a slightly off step gate, and as he saw Tara and Carol turn to assess this new threat, he felt a slight body slam into his back, and two slender arms wrap around his middle. And a jolt went through him more powerful than any gunshot because the contact was so familiar. He still had not dropped his aim as all around him descended into chaos - voices shouting words his mind refused to comprehend. 

And then the warm weight against his back was gone, the arms faded, proving they were truly a fantasy, and still those around him babbled words he chose not to hear, because to hear would mean to hope and he no longer would hope. 

Then she was standing in front of him. Her back to him, blonde hair drawn up in a sloppy pony tail. But it couldn’t be her because there was no blood. Her arms were thrown wide, like Jesus on the cross, encompassing all those around him. Gesturing wildly she pointed to each of them, then pounded her chest “Mine,” she said in the voice of an angel. And still Daryl’s aim did not waiver. He would never waiver. Never for a nightmare, and certainly not for a dream. 

***

Beth stood with her arms spread wide as though her body alone would protect her loved ones. Her heart had stopped when she rounded the corner of the building and saw the unmistakable form of Daryl Dixon. Without thinking she ran straight to him, ignoring everyone else, wrapping her arms around him as tears of joy half blinded her. But her embrace only lasted a moment as she placed herself between her family and those who had given her sanctuary. She had to stop this. She had to make them understand 

“Mine,” she was able to say. Standing behind her was everyone in the world that she loved. Everyone she feared she would never see again. Everyone who thought she was dead. She could see their shock in the ashen white face of her sister as she slowly sunk to the ground, mouth moving without sound, terror that she was seeing a ghost mingled with hope and denial. 

Beth stepped boldly forward making sure that she was placed between the weapons of her family and those who had accepted her and given her shelter. “Mine,” she was able to say again. And as she did the shock suddenly melted from those around her, as the confrontation was momentarily forgotten. Rick was the first at her side, touching her tentatively then wrapping her in an embrace so powerful she thought he would squeeze the life from her. The Maggie was there, incoherent as tears rolled down her cheeks. 

“We thought you were dead,” Carol said softly, her hand resting on Beth’s back. 

Beth shook her head vehemently, trying to see them all at once, to touch them all, to savor a reunion she had once been denied. Carl was there and Michonne and Sasha. Plus people she did not recognize, but who seemed to be part of the group now. Suddenly little Judith was crying, making her presence known, and Beth took her from Carl, holding her closely, smelling her baby hair and skin, amazed at how much she had grown. 

Then she heard Anne’s voice outside the madness of everyone’s greetings. “You know Beth was separated from her family before she was brought here. We’ve accepted Beth, we need to give equal consideration to those she calls her own.”

Hearing those words, Beth handed Judith back to Carl and pushed forward through her friends to stand beside Anne, as she pleaded with the men who, moments before, were prepared fight it out with her family if needed. Beth swept her hand to indicate those standing behind her, then placed her hand over her heart wishing she had the words to plead their case, hoping they would be given the same opportunity she had.

“We asked them to surrender their weapons,” said one of the men. “They reacted badly.”

“Do you blame them?” Anne asked. “They’ve been living out there for months if what Beth tells us is true. Would you be quick to surrender your weapons?’

“We’ll let Aaron decide this,” the man said. “In the meantime could we at least get them to put their weapons up, holster their knives and pistols.”

Anne looked at Beth who nodded as a grin spread across her face. She turned to look at Rick who was standing closest behind her. He had heard their entire conversation and she stared at him waiting for him to respond. Slowly, Rick holstered his pistol, indicating that the others should do the same, then as if to re-inforce his willingness to co-operate, took Judith from Carl and slowly rubbed her back to calm her. Absolute joy overtook Beth in that moment. She had her family back. 

“You’ve got some explaining to do, girl,” Rick said as he stepped up and gave her another hug. As if on cue there was a burst of questions and greetings from those surrounding her, their confrontation momentarily forgotten and Beth just nodded and grinned, then pointed to Anne. 

Anne stepped forward. “I’m sorta going to have to answer for Beth,” she said. “I’ll explain what I know. In the meantime, if you don’t mind, we need to need to ask you a few questions as well. You understand. We need to know how you are going to fit into our community. How you found out about us since none of our recruiters brought you in. But, first, if you’re hungry, we can take you to the commissary and get you all a bite to eat.”

Beth saw a ripple of tension run through her friends. 

Then Glenn spoke blithely, “As long as it’s not barbecue.” With his words the tension dissolved into chuckles, and Beth looked quizzically at him. “We have a lot of catching up to do,” he said to her. “All of us.” 

Glenn was still supporting an obviously distraught Maggie. Beth stepped closer to the pair, and gently brushed the hair from Maggie’s face. Maggie burst into fresh tears as Beth gathered her into her arms, holding her as she sobbed. For a few moments the two sisters were lost in their own world, the Glenn gently eased Maggie out of Beth’s arms. 

Looking at all the faces she loved and a few she did not know, Beth had never felt so utterly relieved, until she realized that one face was missing and she felt her own expression change to one of fear. Frantically she looked over the shoulders of those around her, searching for the one person she most desperately wanted to see. She would not be denied again. She struggled to bring Daryl’s name to her lips, and in frustration she clenched her fists and shook them.

“What is it Beth?” Rick was asking. 

Beth pushed her way through the people looking in vain for Daryl. 

“What are you looking for, Beth?” Rick asked again. 

In desperation Beth went through the motions of arming and firing Daryl’s crossbow. It was then the others realized Daryl was nowhere to be seen 

Rick turned sharply on Anne. “Where is he?” 

Beth could feel the anger beginning to build in Rick as he confronted Anne and she quickly stepped between them. 

“Who?” Anne asked.

“Daryl. The man with the crossbow. He was here with us.”

Anne looked to her compatriots, then up to the men and women on the parapet. “He slipped outside the gate,” one of them called down. 

“And you didn’t say anything?” Anne shot back, anger in her voice.

“We weren’t told to stop them from leaving. Just from shooting up the place,” answered the sharpshooter. 

Beth did not need to hear anything more. She was running towards the gate. 

***

Daryl stumbled mindlessly out of the city and into the woods outside the gate. It wasn’t a real forest not like the ones back home, but it was green and alive, not brick walls and stone buildings. He realized how much he craved the solitude of the woodland. He’d had enough city. He’d had enough sorrow. The aching pit that had replaced his heart since Beth had died had suddenly become a chasm. He had done what he promised he would do. Got his family to a safe place. There was nothing left for him but to slip quietly away. Away from the apparition that could not possibly be, because she was dead. Dead and gone, six hundred miles away in the back of a damned patrol car without even the grace of a burial. Just one more time he’d failed her. 

Stopping in his tracks, the sorrow of the last months came crashed down again like a hell storm of despair. Slowly his bow slipped from unfeeling fingers as he dropped to his knees. All the tears he had held inside streamed down his face and he no longer cared. There was no longer any one to hide his tears from. 

***

Outside the gate it was not hard to guess where Daryl might have gone. Walking along the edge of the blacktop road, she searched for signs of where he might have left the hard surface. It wasn’t difficult at all. Not for an apt pupil trained by the best tracker. She soon found the impression of a boot heel in the soft dirt and was into the woods. Daryl was travelling quickly, almost running, blindly or carelessly, making no effort to cover his tracks. He doesn’t expect anyone to follow Beth thought. Like he was running away. Running away from her, she thought, suddenly fearful of what he might be thinking. That he’d seen a ghost? Or that she hadn’t been real? Maggie certainly reacted that way. 

Beth moved quietly, listening for any warning signs of danger. In her time here she had learned that regular patrols kept the walkers well away from the walls, but they did occasionally wander close. She paused to listen and was surprised to hear nothing but the rustle of a slight breeze in the canopy of trees overhead. There was no bird song, no chitter of small creatures going about their business completely unfazed by the change in the world. That means something or someone had startled them into silence and they did not yet feel safe enough to resume their lives. And that meant whoever or whatever had startled them was very close. 

Beth found several more boot prints and continued, walking silently as she had been taught, stepping lightly over leaves and broken branches, placing her feet carefully to avoid making noise all while watching her trail and listening carefully. She was only slightly hampered by the awkwardness of her right leg. Moving slowly was easier than running. 

She heard him before she saw him. And her heart ached. There was no disguising the heartbroken sound of sobbing. She wanted to run to him and wrap him in her arms and hold him until the crying ceased. She wanted more than the world to tell him how she felt about him, how she had come to realize all these long months they had been separated, that the awkward feeling she had not understood that last night in the funeral home, was now so very clearly defined. What had begun with “Oh” and a strange flutter of her heart, had blossomed into a love she had only dreamed he might return. And now she did not have the words to tell him how she felt. 

Peeking through the brush she saw him in a small clearing, on his knees, his shoulders hunched like a broken, beaten soul, fists clenched on his thighs, lank sweat-soaked hair hanging over his face obscuring it from her view, his precious crossbow discarded in the detritus on the woodland floor. She quietly walked out of the brush making just enough noise that he would know she was there and still he did not respond. She was in front of him in four steps. Beth sank to her knees in front of him wanting to wrap him in her arms and comfort him, yet knowing Daryl well enough to understand that he needed to work through this his way. With infinite care she placed one hand over his clenched fist, and it hurt when he flinched away as though branded. 

“Go away,” he rasped in a voice made rougher by tears. “I can’t do this. I can’t. You’re dead.” 

Determined not to lose him again she squeezed his hand, her own tears now flowing freely, without the words of comfort she was unable to speak all she had to offer was her touch. Moving with deliberate caution she moved her hand to the side of his face, brushing the hair from his eyes, trying to show him how very much alive she really was. 

“You were right,” he choked, “If I look at ya, alls I’ll see is another dead girl.” 

With persistent gentleness she raised his head. His eyes were squeezed shut like a child who was so afraid of what they might see, that they believe they could be safe if they did not look. Leaning forward, she placed one chaste kiss on his forehead. He was as startled by the grazing warmth of her lips as he had been by the touch of her hand, but his eyes shot open and for a moment she saw all the agony, all the sorrow, all the guilt that had been eroding his soul since the day she had been shot. No, far more than that, since the day she had been taken. If she knew Daryl, and she did, he would have blamed himself for her abduction without knowing how truly evil Dawn’s minions were and how they had callously calculated her kidnapping.

“No,” he said his face crumpling into tears. “It can’t be. I saw the bullet hole in your head. I carried your body down all those stairs. No one survives a head shot.”

Before he could say another word Beth grabbed his hand, working his fingers apart until she could place his open finger on her forehead where she knew the bullet had entered her brain. Like doubting Thomas from the bible who needed to place his hand on Jesus’ wounds to believe he had risen from the dead, Daryl needed to know that she had indeed been shot and survived. She held his hand to her forehead where she knew a small star shaped scar marked her skin, beneath it a tiny indentation, not visible to the eye, where her skull had finally healed. Then she placed his hand on the larger wound at the back of her skull where the bullet had exited. And prayed he would believe. 

“I can’t believe. If I believe today then someday I’m gonna lose you again. I can’t live through losin’ you again.”

Believe, she wanted to tell him, but her garbled brain would only let her say “Yes,” slowly and deliberately, followed by a sigh of effort. 

“You can’t even talk, and that’s on me too”

Beth smacked his arm with the flat of her hand scowling fiercely. This was not his fault. Her own foolishness caused this, thinking she could somehow harm Dawn with a miserable pair of scissors. She had put her loved ones through hell because she wanted Dawn to hurt as she had hurt so many others. There was never supposed to be any killing. She could only imagine how Daryl and Maggie had suffered believing she was dead all these months. She had no way to apologize for her stupidity. She wanted more than anything to take all those months back. In the end what had she gained. Noah never did get back to his home. If he had stayed behind with Dawn he would still be alive and might have found a way to escape again. She might have found a way to rescue him again. 

But more importantly, she would not have to look at the anguish in Daryl’s eyes, the dark circles, and the worn, ragged expression on his face. She wanted more than anything to erase the tears, to ease the burden of his sorrow, to heal the gaping wound she had inflicted on his heart. She wanted to tell him how much he meant to her. How she had thought of nothing else these long months except holding him, explaining to him what “Oh” actually meant, telling him how much he had become a part of her heart, her very soul. And to know if there was the slightest chance that he felt the same for her. 

Taking a deep breath, she placed her hands on either side of his face studying every nuanced change in his expression, not allowing him to look away until at last she saw the first tiny spark of hope. And then she smiled broadly. Sitting back on her heels, she placed both her hands over her heart, then used them to make a heart shaped sign, then placed both hands on his chest. She could feel his heart racing, felt the short catch in his breath, saw him swallow convulsively as if swallowing his sorrow. Then his hands were on her shoulders drawing her to him, and his arms were around her crushing her to his chest, and they were both sobbing only this time they shed tears of joy. 

As they sat entwined in each other’s arms, time seemed to slow, as it had right after she had been shot only she hoped this time it would never change. She had wasted so much of the time she could have shared with Daryl, that she wanted each moment from now on to be three moments long. She was only dimly aware of the sun setting, first as a cooling of the air against her skin, then a shift in the sounds around her as day creatures went to sleep and night creatures awoke, and still she did not want to move. Being here right now, with Daryl, was all she had dreamed about and she did not want this moment to end. 

With a soft sigh she pulled away from Daryl, realizing as she did that both her legs had fallen asleep, and there was a serious cramp in her right arm. She thought the feeling was glorious, because it meant that she truly was alive, more alive than she had ever been. She smiled at Daryl and he smiled and ducked his head, as though their actions had been somehow inappropriate. And she laughed. Daryl would always be Daryl, and she understood that once they were back with the rest of the group overt displays of public affection would probably not be forthcoming. She understood that. They had a long road ahead of them before Daryl would be as comfortable with his feelings for her as Glenn was with Maggie. If that ever happened. But Beth was good with that. Because it was not what happened in public that was important. It was moments like now that mattered. She would cherish every second and make every one last for three. 

“We better go, girl,” Daryl said at last rising slowly to his feet, picking up his bow as he did and reaching the other hand down to her. “They might not let us back in.” 

Beth shrugged like that did not matter, because it didn’t. They would be just fine without walls. But she took his hand and let him pull her gently to her feet, falling easily into place at his side. The only place she belonged and the place she would never again leave. As they started to walk back towards the roadway in the gathering darkness, they both heard it at the same time. Shuffling and stumbling through the woods somewhere ahead of them. A walker that had slipped through the patrols. Daryl raised his bow and began to push her protectively behind him, but she would have none of it. She reached down and took her knife, well, once it had been his, from its sheath at his side stepping forward to meet the walker halfway and with a swift precise motion drove the knife through its skull. Wiping the blade on its clothing she turned back to see Daryl’s approving nod. 

“Always said you could take care of yourself. And ya did.”

In more than one way, she thought, and knew he meant it that way. Reaching back to him, he took her hand in his, fingers lacing comfortably through hers, and together they walked back towards the walls of the city, and hopefully, Beth thought, towards a chance to start living life. 


End file.
